


Between My Teeth

by yanopuedomas



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Aftercare, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, Other, PWP, Subspace, mild petplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:09:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29382552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yanopuedomas/pseuds/yanopuedomas
Summary: After a miserable day, Bloodhound needs a little extra attention.
Relationships: Bloodhound/Mirage | Elliott Witt
Comments: 1
Kudos: 35





	Between My Teeth

“Gotta admit, I had you pinned as more of a coffee person.”

“It’s not for me,” Bloodhound takes honey from the cabinet and carefully measures three spoonfuls of honey into the piping hot mug, “this is for the little one.”

“Wattson asked you to make her tea?” Elliott hops onto the countertop, one leg swinging over the other, “what’s she so busy with?”

“It is for Octavio.”

“Ah,” he clicks his tongue, “the _little_ -little one.”

“He’s been unwell for a few days now, ever since the snow settled in,” they add a dash of almond creamer to the drink, “with that cough of his, I would venture he has been running in this cold.”

“Wait, for real? Isn’t that, like, super bad for your lungs?”

“Mm. The air is far too dry and can easily close the throat.”

“And he asked for… tea?”

“You ask many questions,” they say tersely as they carefully stir the mug.

“It just-” Elliott scrunches his face, “doesn’t seem like a very _Octane_ thing to do.”

“I just thought-” Hound stops abruptly and finally looks at him, “will he drink it?”

“Probably not,” he chews mindlessly on a fingernail, “when was the last time you saw that maniac drink something organic? You should bring him a Red Bull.”

With a sharp mutter Bloodhound drops the mug into the sink. It clatters obnoxiously, honey milk tea spilling down the drain. Elliott’s eyes widen.

“Whoa, hey,” he jumps off the counter but Bloodhound turns away to dry their hands, “what’s that all about? I mean, I would’a drank it.”

“When was the last time _you_ drank tea?” they snarl, “you were right. It was a ridiculous idea, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I didn’t say that,” he urges and puts a hand on Bloodhound’s shoulder. “Baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset. May-maybe we can get him some takeout, he won’t shut up about that one poki place-”

“Forget it.”

Hands sinking deep into their pockets as their shoulders hackle, Bloodhound turns around.

“Babe?”

Elliott hurries to follow them from the kitchen but their pace doesn’t falter as they stalk down the corridor to the dormitories. He watches their hand flex and curl, knuckles glaring white against their skin. It is a familiar motion that has his heart sinking in his chest.

“Angel,” his voice is softer, “c’mere.”

They spin to face him in an instant, untameable hair flying with the force of the glare they sent his way. “ _What?_ ”

Elliott’s hands raise, empty palms symbolizing his surrender. Immediately the rage in their eyes quell and something like guilt tugs at the corner of their lip, their head jerking away.

“I’m sorry,” they mumble, unable to meet his gaze when Elliott sought it, “I know this isn’t your fault.”

“Ain’t yours either,” he steps closer and slides his fingers between theirs, still warm from the tea, “do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

Bloodhound’s fingers cinch around his once, briefly, a placeholder as they close their eyes to search for the right words and Elliott pauses patiently. He understands that English is difficult even with a clear head.

“I don’t know how to explain it.”

There is no confusion. No helplessness. Just… defeat. It gnaws into Elliott’s chest with fangs.

“I need,” they begin, eyes sliding open, “to be useful.”

Elliott measures this as Bloodhound shifts their weight uncomfortably with a wince, like the word left a terrible taste on their tongue.

He takes their other hand too, distracting them from any impending anxiety by splaying his fingers across theirs until their palms are flush together. His hands are broader but their inked fingers are longer, calluses rough against his softer skin. Slowly Bloodhound’s tense shoulders begin to lower, unblinking eyes watching the way their hands fit together.

“I know,” Elliott begins quietly, “that sometimes you get a bit lost in your head.”

They snap upright but Elliott hushes them, drawing the pad of his index finger down their palm.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, either. Everyone gets like that at some time or another. It’s just- different people need different things and I don’t wanna do anything you don’t want me to.”

Bloodhound drops their hands from his and Elliott holds his breath as their arms slowly slide around his waist. It is an uncertain motion but he has seen it before, in scarce instances, and when they push their forehead onto his shoulder he realizes exactly what is happening.

Despite himself a smile crosses his lips as he encourages them closer, arms tight around their shoulders. He lets them find what comfort they can, unmoving even when Anita opens the door from the cafeteria, immediately gazing upon them both with a quirk of a concerned frown.

 _It’s fine_ , he mouths with a wink to seal it, _I’ve got it._

She looks unconvinced but says nothing as she walks past. The soft padded footsteps make Bloodhound jerk, twisting themself free from Elliott’s arms. Anita is kind enough to pretend not to notice.

“Hey, hey,” he calms them as their eyes trained to her back, cheeks pallor, “she doesn’t mind.”

It doesn’t help. They are wound tight like a coil, threatening to snap, and Elliott can’t coax them to return into his arms. They can’t stay here, he knows - they are feeling far too exposed.

“Come on,” he puts a hand on the back of their neck and they freeze, “let’s get somewhere a little quieter.”

They say nothing but then Elliott squeezes and their eyes flutter. They nod slowly, as if underwater, and without moving his hand Elliott guides them to the dormitories.

He is tempted to take them to his room where he knows pizza and cold beer is waiting but decides ultimately that Bloodhound needs to be somewhere familiar. Their room is ill-lit now that the sun has sunk in the sky so he flips a few extra switches, instantly illuminating the mess.

Elliott steps over clothing and training equipment, mindful not to crush one of Artur’s many toys beneath his feet. He guides Hound through the dorm as if it were his own, lowering them onto the couch they often used as a bed when they came home too exhausted to do more than kick their boots off.

He unzips their jacket and frees them of its constricting material. He places it to the side as Bloodhound’s eyes follow him.

“You comfy like that?”

A nod.

“Good.”

He stands in front of them and puts a hand on their cheek, testing for feverish warmth before using his thumb to tuck a beaded braid behind their ear. They only blink slowly.

“Just you and me now, doll,” he tells them and lowers himself between their knees, “now then. Do you want to tell me what I can do to make you feel better?”

They are silent for a moment. “I want you to take control.”

“I can do that, baby,” he promises, “how do you want me to?”

“I want,” their eyes screw shut and then fly open, searching the ceiling as if the right words were scrawled up there, “to serve you.”

A slow grin spreads across Elliott’s face but he holds his breath and keeps his response level. It’s easy to tell how vulnerable they feel right now - they haven’t looked down yet, something desperate in their gaze as though they could pray with their eyes. 

“Angel,” he slides a hand under their chin, “look at me.”

Despite it all, Bloodhound obeys. In a heartbeat their head snaps down, gray eyes meeting him without falter.

“You slippin’ right now, baby?” he strokes their jaw in praise, “or are you already there?”

“I’m here.”

It’s a whisper but Bloodhound is leaning toward him - but they are only permitted what Elliott allows. He rises to his feet and Bloodhound’s eyes track his every move.

“Good,” he says and gives them the kiss they crave.

Bloodhound is so clumsy it’s endearing but in a beat they can keep up, parting their lips when Elliott dictates and shuddering as he coaxes their tongue out to play. 

When Elliott pulls away it takes them a moment to realize he has stopped. They blink as if in a daze, their hands open on their lap. Palms up. Exposed.

“We need something,” he tells them, “a way to pull the plug if I do something you don’t want.”

Instantly they shake their head once. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not just for you,” he puts a hand at the center of their chest, “this is a two-way road, baby, understand? I need to be able to know you’re okay. Listen, it can be whatever you want. Give me a word, anything, and if you say it then everything goes back to normal. No questions asked, alright? How does that sound?”

They want to resist so terribly, Elliott can nearly _taste_ it, but they weaken. “Okay.”

Elliott’s head bows so he can kiss up to their ear. “What’ll it be, beautiful?”

They look down at their hands and, after a moment of thinking, snap both fingers at once.

“Is that it?” he grins, “I like it, that’s good.”

It’s small but the praise seems to calm them. Fingers lacing with Elliott’s, they toy with his hand in almost a child-like manner as his smile softens.

He sits beside them and immediately they lower themself onto the ground, kneeling with their hands on their thighs. Back straight. Eyes watching for the next instruction.

Elliott knows his hands must be cold but Bloodhound leans close when he touches their cheek. His nails tenderly drag into their hair, scratching until their locks are tangled and their head begins lolling into his hand with each pass. 

Their hands appear at his belt, nails clawing at the leather. Elliott makes a soft _tsk_ and takes them away.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says, “I just need to know this is what you really want.”

“It is.”

So quick to respond, so eager to please. It does things to Elliott that it shouldn’t and that’s why he can’t pull them away again when they successfully unfasten his belt and- _oh_ , the way they licked their lips should be criminal. Soft pink tongue swiping over slender scarred lips, leaving them wet and plush and ready.

“Fuck,” he breathes but quickly recovers, “it’s just- we didn’t set any boundaries before you slipped and I want to make sure you won’t hate me later.”

“Not possible,” they whisper and Elliott can’t suppress his shudder when their lips graze over the bulge in his briefs, “you know my limits.”

Elliott moves a hand on top of their hair, petting them slowly. “This is how you wanna serve me, baby?”

A fervent nod.

“Then serve me,” and he pushes their head down.

Bloodhound’s mouth is as eager as they are. Freeing Elliott’s member from confinements, those beautiful lips part so their tongue could lave up and down the sides. Before long Elliott’s toes were curling in his shoes, the hand in their hair cinching as they lapped, kissing and nuzzling the underside as his cock stood tall.

Curling a hand around its base, Bloodhound lets the tip into their mouth and takes down all they can. Elliott swears as his cock is enveloped in wet warmth, their tongue rubbing up and down as their lips tighten. The crown bumps against the back of their throat and they choke but hold, their head moving up and down so they can properly lick all around his aching shaft.

Elliott pushes down more.

A noise squeezes from them as his cock pushes further inside their mouth, further and further, until the tip pushes into the brutal tight entrance of their throat. Their eyes shut hard but they take it so well, so _beautifully_ well, and Elliott’s head throws back as stars burst behind his eyes.

“Fuck, _god_ , yeah,” he rasps, “that’s a good pup, that’s a damn good pup, keep- just like that, keep going.”

Bloodhound whimpers, the painful stretch blocking their airway, completely cutting off their air circulation- and how they _adored_ it. They gag, their stomach threatening to flip, but they obey Elliott and hold still, the panicked reflexes of their throat massaging his cock.

“Off.”

They pull away with a loud gasp, quickly filling their lungs as they recover. Elliott gives them a moment, waiting until their breathing has evened out. “That’s beautiful, baby, you’re doin’ so good for me. You okay? Take a second and catch your breath.”

Bloodhound presses their brow into his thigh, panting into the denim as their fingers shakily caress his cock. Elliott can’t take his eyes away from the sight before him - his divine hunter on their knees, nestled between his legs, struggling for oxygen in their lungs so they could please him again - and it unlocks something ravenous inside of him and without a second thought he yanks their hair and directs their lips back to his cock.

Eagerly they take him back inside, letting him fill their mouth and, with a snap of his hips, sob as the blunt head wrestles its way back down his throat. Barely able to keep themself composed, their cheeks hollow and they tighten their mouth around the base of his member, head bobbing as they sucked with reckless abandon. Drool dribbles down the corner of their mouth but it only aids the slick smooth glide, sending Elliott’s head spinning.

Gripping their head with both hands, Elliott bares his teeth and slams into their mouth. They choke and gurgle, plump tears trickling from their eyes, forced to hold still as Elliott savagely fucks their throat. He snarls as he grows closer and closer, his hips jerking unsteadily as he nears his release.

With a final brutal pound Elliott swears loudly and spills, clenching Bloodhound’s hair and not letting them pull away as his cock pulses thick cum down their throat. They are shaking like a leaf but they don’t move an inch, and with great effort they manage to swallow around the massive intrusion, milking him for every drop he could give them. The tight pressure around his oversensitive flesh is enough to make his eyes roll back in his head, mouth open but wordless as he swims through the tail of his orgasm.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he slurs and releases his hold on Hound’s hair, “fuck.”

With a trembling hand Bloodhound wipes their mouth as they pant hard, raspy and hoarse but blinking blearily up at Elliott when his hand cups their jaw.

“Look here, baby,” he ordered, “are you okay?”

“Yes.” God, their voice sounds _wrecked_.

“How are you feeling?”

“Mouth hurts,” they murmur and rub their cheek along his leg, “feels good.”

Elliott chuckles and rubs behind their ear, watching their white lashes flutter close.

“Tired?”

Their eyes snap open. “No.”

Elliott touches his thumb to their bottom lip, swollen and glistening red, and they obediently open their mouth. The pad of his finger glides across their teeth, over their sharp canines, their soft tongue. Experimentally Bloodhound licks it once, earning themself a grin.

He bends down and kisses them softly but Bloodhound accidentally moves too fast, eager to deepen it. Elliott stops immediately and, capturing their jaw with his fingers, frowns.

“Ah-ah.”

“Sorry,” they whisper.

He does it again and they remain still and calm. He licks across their lip before taking it between their teeth with a small bite. They twitch as their knees press together.

They always did love that.

“Are you thirsty?” they ask softly, “Hungry? I can make you dinner.”

“Why don’t you make me a drink, baby?”

In an instant they are on their feet. Elliott watches them cross the room into the kitchen, fetching a short glass from the cabinet which they fill halfway with amber whiskey. Adding a couple ice cubes, they return to offer Elliott the drink and kneel on the ground beside his feet.

He sips slowly and lets the alcohol pleasantly burn his mouth as he strokes Bloodhound’s ear. His fingertip toy with the piercings, grazing the studs and tiny hoops until he swore they shivered.

Their eyes slide closed but Elliott doesn’t miss the way they press their cheek against his palm, their hands sliding between their legs so they could try rocking their hips against them.

“What’s wrong, baby? Uncomfortable?”

They nod - so sweet and honest - and obediently shuffle closer when Elliott indicates. With an _‘up, pup'_ Bloodhound moves onto the couch, drawing their knees up. Elliott reaches for their hips and puts them on his lap, letting them hide their face into his throat as his hands wander.

His fingers delve past the hem of their pants and they press closer. Elliott can hear the stutter in their breath when he grazes across their entrance, the strong muscles of their legs twitching as they struggle to hold still for him.

Even after all this time, they are still so _sensitive_.

It’s beyond endearing.

Elliott’s hand withdraws and they look up at him. Cupping a warm cheek, he asks, “Want some more?”

Quickly Bloodhound nods, wide pupils trained on him.

“Open up,” he taps a finger on their lip and they part them, taking two inside their mouth so they can slick them. They drag their tongue up and down, meeting his gaze before giving a gentle suck that makes Elliott’s head feel light. 

“Cheeky thing,” he whispers, “do you have any idea what you do to me?”

They rolled their hips against his. “I think so.”

Elliot laughs into the kiss he gives them. They take his fingers beautifully, staying motionless even when his hand gently twists to open them from the inside. Their hands find their way into his hair, needing something to hold onto as he tests a third finger. They swear softly but arch against it, desperately drawing him deeper until he steadies them.

“Easy, easy,” he breathes, “don’t move too fast or you’ll hurt yourself.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” they stutter briefly, “I just- I need-”

Elliott curls the tips of his fingers, rubbing their walls tenderly and loving the way their thighs instinctively tighten around him. “What do you need?”

“I need,” their mouth snapped shut but opened again, “to make you feel good.”

“Fuck, baby.”

“As good as you make me feel,” and there is something _raw_ in their voice that made Elliott’s eyes steel and his jaw lock in place. He forces himself to remember to breathe and he grabs their jaw by beneath their throat, fingers curling into the tender skin.

“What do you want?”

“Whatever you’ll give me,” they whisper and their hands drop in submission, “sir.”

The next moment is a blur as Elliott twists, dragging Bloodhound onto the couch and pushing them into the cushions. They tremble under the abrupt force of it all but their legs part so Elliott can fit between them and kiss them like his life depends on it.

It’s messy. Elliott licks their lips open and they oblige but can’t keep up with his fervor, barely able to respond as his tongue glides over their teeth. He yanks on their sides, dragging their hips against his and they gasp at the friction. Elliott makes quick work tugging their pants down to their thighs, his eyes hardening as he takes in the delicious sight before him.

Bloodhound’s legs cinch around him - he knows they’re trying to close their knees - but then his fingers return inside them and all they can do is throw their head back with a shudder. They grab his wrist but don’t dare stop him, and Elliott watches in infatuation as they unsteadily rock their hips against it, desperate for _anything_ more.

“Like that, baby?” he curls his fingers and they nearly shout, their entire body surging, “ _fuck_ , yeah you do. Look at you taking me so well.”

He can tell they’re trying to say something, anything, but any words died at their lips when a low moan tumbled out instead. They clamp a hand to their mouth, cheeks burning bright, but Elliott removes it so he can lace their fingers together tightly.

“Fuck,” is all they can sob out.

“If you’re feelin’ good then I wanna hear it,” he spreads his fingers and delivers a bite at their neck, just below their ear, sucking hard until he knows for certain he left a dark bruise that would linger for days. “Don’t you hold back on me.”

They paw at his jeans, jerky fingers trying to unfasten the tiny silver button. Elliott’s chuckle sounds more akin to a growl as he yanks them down, hissing with relief as his cock is freed from the rough fabric. He grabs himself tight, rubbing his thumb along the head to stave off the worst of the ache. Fuck, he is so wet it’s almost _embarrassing_ , pre gushing like mad from the slit, but it makes the glide slick and smooth as he pushes it inside of them without a second thought.

A tiny _‘ah, ah_ ’ slips Bloodhound’s kiss-bitten lips and they gasp, eyes transfixed between their legs as Elliott slowly stretches them wide open. Sharp nails twist into the cushion beneath them, ripping the seams as he begins to rock in and out, just a few inches of his member enveloped by their warmth that had Elliott’s eyes rolling back in his skull.

Elliott swears once, then louder again. Bloodhound is unbelievably tight around him, squeezing so hard he could have spilled again in an instant. He forces himself to hold still, tampering the frenzy bubbling in his gut that makes him want to pound them into the floor until he is entirely spent.

How can he possibly rush this when Bloodhound is falling apart so beautifully for him?

Their thick lashes close and their mouth part, ragged tiny gasps slipping from their lips with each thrust. They fumble with the hem of their sweater, tugging it down to cover the parts of themself they didn’t want to see, but then their finger grazes something sensitive that had their eyes flying wide open. “ _Oh-_ ”

Elliott dips and kisses them, swallowing each delicious sound. It is so much easier for them to touch themself when he can’t see so he keeps them distracted, cradling their head before pulling out nearly entirely and slamming all the way inside.

They seize, something high-pitched and broken bleeding against his lips as he did it again, then again, until he found the perfect rhythm that had Bloodhound scrambling to clutch onto him. 

They were still so _anxious_ , Elliott can feel it in his own bones. Their head bows as they pant, letting their hair fall in front of their flushed face. When Elliott slides a hand down their side he finds their legs are shaking uncontrollably. He leans back and slides one over his shoulder, turning his head to kiss their ankle. “This for me?”

Bloodhound puts their knuckle in their mouth but can’t hide their scarlet cheeks. Elliott squeezes their calf, fingertips running over the shadows of their taut muscles and adoring the way the fervent trembling grew so much worse when he gave a particularly hard slam of his hips.

Grazing his lips over the sensitive spot on the back of their foot, Elliott pulls out and says, “Turn over, baby.”

They obey. Yanking down their shirt again, they push themself upright on wobbly legs to face the other direction. Their hands settle on the arm of the couch, knuckles white.

Elliott sinks back inside with a low purr, taking his time with a few languid thrusts as he focuses on not coming immediately undone as Bloodhound’s heat wraps so perfectly around his cock. He delves his hands beneath their shirt, fingertips running over raised scars he’s touched more often than seen. Their skin is hot under his touch.

“Lift your hips a little more, baby,” he gently guides them, “there we go.”

They bury their head in their arms with a long low moan, their body slumping against the cushion. Elliott savors the divine sound, locking it away for safekeeping.

“That’s it,” he breathes, “doesn’t that feel better? You’re being so good for me.”

They choke but the words die in their lips when Elliott slams into them, ruthless and all at once. They sob, helplessly unable to keep quiet as he sets a brutal pace that has his teeth baring. Distantly Elliott is aware of Bloodhound’s leg pressing against his, seeking any extra shred of contact, but he is fixated on watching them fall apart under each pound.

Then he strikes their sweetest spot and they crumble. It hits when they least expect it, a panicked cry bursting free as they melt beneath Elliott. The trembling is back, and this time he can feel it up to their shoulder blades. He grabs their hips and jerks them back in time with each thrust, his pace growing faster and more jagged.

It is all Bloodhound could do to hold on - their ragged keens fill the small space, ringing in Elliott’s ears and fueling the fire in his veins that turns his vision stark white.

Elliott’s head spins when he watches Bloodhound shakily reach between their legs, unable to muffle their groan of bliss as they release the worst of the building pressure.

He surges forward and closes his teeth at the back of their neck, leaving sharp nips and tiny kisses along the deep blue ink embedded in their skin. He slides two fingers past their lips, tugging on the inside of their cheek until their mouth is forced open, leaving those beautiful breathless moans nowhere to hide.

“How does it feel?” Elliott murmurs along their throat.

“Big,” they let out in a whimper.

“Good?” he strokes down their spine, “bad?”

“Good,” they hiccup. “Good.”

Elliott’s devious fingers slip out of their mouth and Bloodhound kisses the inside of his wrist as he retracted. He tips his head back and heaves a satisfied sigh as he gives a few slow hard rolls of his hips, letting the fever simmer before he boiled over. Too much too fast and he knows he’d lose control.

Looking back down, he watches Bloodhound glance over their shoulder. He is immediately smitten by their flushed face, cheeks splotchy with pink, their twin braids undone and clinging by the silver beads that bind them.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, doll?” He chuckles, massaging their sides slowly.

“You,” they whisper.

Their voice is impossibly small, so much _trust_ in the single word. It grounds him. For a moment Elliott is still, nothing but his thrumming heartbeat filling his ears. He smiles softly and cups their cheek, something in his chest melting as Bloodhound rubs against it.

“Come here, baby.”

Something akin to a mewl slips their lips as Elliott ever so delicately maneuvers them close to him. Dazed, all they can do is move as he wants. They are putty in his hands as he slides their thighs over his, pulling them close until their chests are flush and he can kiss them.

Their ankles lock behind him and when Elliot shifts his hips forward he feels their shudder through their entire body. It is perfect like this - they are so warm against him, even clad in their thin sweater, and he relishes the sensation of their soft locks slipping between his fingers. He deepens the kiss, tasting sweet mint.

He rocks his hips tenderly, their insides like silk around him. Slowly, he slips his hand under the front of their shirt and, when met without resistance, he begins to gently thumb their nipples between his fingers. They squirm under the attention, pressing their forehead against Elliott’s as their eyes squeeze shut.

“Elliott,” they chokes out, “I- I think I’m almost there.”

He tugs them closer, reaching them deeper and their head lolls forward against his shoulder deliriously. “Tell me how it feels, angel.”

“Like fire,” they moan across his skin, “it’s so hot. It’s everywhere and I can’t think. I’m- it’s so close, it hurts.”

“You wanna come, baby?” He kisses their ear.

“ _Please_ , I can’t hold on-”

“Then let go, beautiful, I’ll catch you.”

With a nip to the shell of their ear they jerk, every muscle in their body rigid. Their hands claw into Elliott’s skin, nails sinking in and leaving crescent moons in their wake. Only their ragged tiny gasps disturb the silence, mangled by the scars deep in their chest.

Elliott can feel the orgasm crash through their body as if it was his own and his eyes close as their body squeezes around his member, tight and hot and pulsing with each wave of aftershocks. They are always so _quiet_ when they come, reducing to nothing more than a trembling mess in his arms.

He lets them come down gradually. The deeper the headspace the longer it takes them to recover, and he hasn’t seen them slip this far in a very long while. Very slowly they begin to unwind, their body growing lax and heavy against Elliott. He holds them fiercely, so tight that not a drop of their anxiety can slip through the cracks. He whispers into their hair, sweet praises filling their ears. It is a controlled descent.

Bloodhound kisses his throat sleepily, sending tingles up his spine. He shifts a little inside of them and they make a soft sound before giving an experimental rock of their hips which has Elliott hissing through his teeth.

With a small sly twitch of their lips Bloodhound sits up, their hands at Elliott’s shoulders gently pushing down. “Now you.”

“Baby, you don’t gotta-”

“I want to,” their voice is low and scratchy, like when they first wake up, and Elliott is weak for it. He straightens his sore legs and leans back, his hands resting on their hips.

Bloodhound’s arms wobble as they place their hands on his chest, taking a moment to run their fingertips over his pectorals. Swiping their tongue across their lip, they begin to roll their hips.

_“Fuuck-”_

Elliott’s head falls back with a thick groan, fingers instinctively digging hard into their skin. Lifting themself on trembling thighs and lowering again, his cock drags along their velvety walls, splitting them apart and filling them up. Their head drops, their shoulders heaving as overstimulation prickles every cell in their body. When Elliott runs his hands through their hair it is damp with perspiration, tiny tears welling in their eyes as it quickly becomes too much.

“Don’t forget to breathe,” he winds his arms around them, pulling them close to his chest so he can smooth the errant locks from their face. “Baby, breathe.”

They inhale suddenly, quickly, a painful rasp following as if they had been drowning. Elliott has never pushed their limits like this before but _fuck_ were they making it difficult to concentrate when they grew familiar with the pattern, fervently fucking themself on his cock and bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

“Shit-!” he cuts himself off sharply, slamming his hips up. They cry out and throw their hair back, wide eyes flying to the ceiling as Elliott chases exactly what he needs. Snarling behind clenched teeth, he loses all reserve.

“Inside,” Bloodhound sobs out, “in me. Please. Please.”

He is beyond words. He can feel his release in his stomach, his legs, in the tips of his toes, electricity and pressure building within him. He snatches Bloodhound’s bare throat and with a final rough thrust his vision swims in iridescence as he comes.

Static floods his brain. He can’t see or think. All he knows is the gorgeous unreal heat around him, so inviting and coaxing burst after burst of fireworks behind his eyes. The sheer _relief_ is perfection and he can’t help trailing after its remnants, barely registering as Bloodhound drops their head onto his chest in exhaustion. Immediately he encircles his arms around them, feeling them heave with every pant. He rubs their back gingerly in circles to help them come back down, rubbing the soft fabric of their sweater between his fingertips.

“Breathe,” they whisper across his neck and Elliott can’t hold back the laugh that bubbles out.

“Dunno if I can yet, beautiful.”

Fuck, he sounds as ruined as he feels. Above that, he feels _tired_. Not just after a long day of training and chasing down Ramya for nicking a piece of his tech to tinker with, but an overwhelming exhaustion that makes his bones feel heavy. He doesn’t even have the energy to protest properly when Bloodhound slowly raises. He doesn’t, however, miss the way they slip a hand between their legs, biting their lip in thrill as they touch the absolute mess he had left behind.

“Sorry,” Elliott groans, wiping his brow with the back of his hand as Bloodhound tugs their pants back up. They drop beside him, smoothing back a curl that found itself out of place.

“Don’t be,” they murmur and _god_ they sound so gorgeous like this. Accent thick with sleepiness, their vowels are softer and rounder than ever. Elliott can’t resist pulling them in for a kiss.

Pulling away with a final peck, Elliott decides, “Let’s get you something to eat, okay?”

“I’m not hungry,” they try.

“You haven’t eaten anything all night,” he reminds them, “just have a little bite for me. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Elliott wiggles back into his pants, feeling slowly returning to his legs as he walks towards the kitchenette. Bloodhound wordlessly follows, pressing against him as they link their hands around his bicep.

The cabinets are nearly barren but Elliott finds fresh vegetables that he cuts up into a chicken broth. Adding a handful of mild spices, dinner is served with whole grain bread.

“It’s not much in terms of sustenance but at least you won’t wake up hungry,” he kisses their nose and lays the bowl in front of them. He drags a chair closer to sit beside them, head tilting in fondness as he watches them bring their hands together for a brief prayer of thanks. Then they pick up the spoon, stirring the soup gently to disperse the heat before tasting it.

“This is very good,” they say quietly, “thank you.”

“No need, doll. Does me well just seein’ color in those cheeks again.”

They stop, eyes rounding as they look up at him. “We should bring this to Octavio.”

Immediately Elliott brightens. “That’s a great idea! Eat up while I box up the rest, yeah? We’ll take it to him as soon as you’re done.”

He stands up but not before giving them a kiss, cherishing the curl of their lips against his. Their smiles are like rubies - rare and beautiful.

As he puts together Octavio’s homemade care package, complete with a few packets of green tea and a hand-written note reading _feel better soon, loser!_ , he can’t resist relishing in the realization that this truly was _it._

He’s right where he belongs.

**Author's Note:**

> “I’m what Bangalore calls a versatile platform.” - Mirage


End file.
